


[HALTED] On the Road to Hell, there was a Railroad Track

by SharKohen



Series: Hadestown AU [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Hades and Persephone, Inspired By, Kylo as Hades, Rey as Persephone, but mainly the musical, but so are the sith, eventually..., hadestown - Freeform, some greek mythology, the jedi are gods
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2019-09-22 08:17:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17056184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharKohen/pseuds/SharKohen
Summary: Where a harbinger of underworld falls for a lowly harvester on the world above.A take on the Hades/Persephone trope, but inspired more heavily by the brilliant musical Hadestown than the actual myth.[STORY HALTED] - now being rewritten as a new story as 'Lover’s Desire'.This story will eventually be taken down once its elements are incorporated into the new story.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This AU is based on Hadestown (a musical that I highly recommend), where the Greek myths kinda of take place in a New Orleans/Depression-era universe and hell is literally an underground industrial area called 'Hadestown' (to which there's a railroad track...) 
> 
> While the focus of the musical is however on the tale of Orpheus & Eurydice, this story would be more inspired by the b-plot, which in the tale of Hades & Persephone. 
> 
> The story on its own however will probably borrow only some elements from Hadestown and will be mixing up with lots of Star wars things, like the Force and stuff. 
> 
> So this isn't really Greek mythology. It's just like...weird.

> _‘On the Road to Hell, there was a railroad track._
> 
> _And train coming up from way down below.’_
> 
> \- from ‘Way Down Hadestown’ by Anaïs Mitchell, from  _Hadestown_

_—_

The world of above was not one he travelled to often. Indeed, he had no great love for it - not the soil, not the birds, not the grass. Certainly not the sun. No, not the sun. He remembered his freckled childhood too well, with the peeling skin and the burning brows. No, the world of above was not one that he missed.

 

But his master had ordered him to go, and where Snoke said ‘leap’, Kylo Ren leapt.

 

That said, the recent orders have been an unusual case. Normally, the knights of Ren were quite capable of collecting the debtors themselves. However, there had been growing numbers of troublemakers refusing to let themselves to be collected, even at the appropriate time. They had been scattered before, individuals that fancied themselves more than they were, so that hadn’t been an issue. Rich or poor, wise or fool - death collected them all.

 

But recently, these rebellious ones have been gathering, mustering a numbers enough to be a threat. A resistance, they called themselves, united behind a symbol of their choosing– _Luke Skywalker_.

 

Just thinking of his name made Kylo’s blood boil.

 

The Supreme Lord of the Underground demanded that this uprising be quelled, and the only may to do so was rid of the original Cheater of death. Luke Skywalker’s time had been due thirty years ago, and now everyone thought they could push back theirs too.

Unacceptable, his master had growled, that people could make such a mockery of the natural law. For there to be life, there had to be death. Thus was balance. The Supreme Lord was very wise, so whatever he declared, Kylo knew without a doubt it must true.

 

So now the Master of the Knights of Ren scourged the surface of Earth for his uncle. To kill him.

 

It was no easy task, for though the believers of the great Jedi were many, few knew him in person and even less knew where he was. When Kylo visited the shrines built for uncle’s glory - giant fields of produce, pastures of plenty, blossoming orchards - he found no trace of the so-called _‘Lord of the Living’_. Just fools drunken on the bounty, carousing boisterously and composing poetry to their great provider. It filled Kylo with disgust to observe their indulgence, and he longed to bring down his flaming scythe down on them right there and then.

 

But the hunt of his prey took precedence, so he left the muttonheads to their devices – for now.

 

Though they had been long estranged, Kylo was quite sure he knew what his uncle felt like in the Force. Indeed, the Force was strong amongst the Skywalkers, even those that did not bear the name.

 

It was highest privilege, Snoke claimed, for it gave him great power. But it was also a burden, for he was forever tied to those with similar gifts. Back in the days under his uncle’s teachings, he could always feel the disappointment radiating from him. Now, he could feel the same from his new master. Perhaps that was one good thing that came from this mission. In the world of above, the Supreme Lord hold was not as strong and that was oddly … freeing.

 

Still, Kylo Ren buried this thought deeply as he could. The Supreme Lord would search his mind after his return, and it would not be wise to reveal such to him.

 

The harbinger instead stretched out his feelings, searching for his estranged kinsman. While crossing a meadow, sun beating mercilessly down on his black armour, he detected a wisp of light. A thread. A beacon. It tugged him towards yet another orchard, much like those that he had passed before. Yet this time, he felt distinctly the pull of the light.

 

His hand went to his blade.

 

As large a man he might be, Kylo Ren could be quiet when he wanted to. So often his uncle had accused his mind of being divided, cluttered and confused, but Snoke had taught him to dig down into himself and unearth his emotions. _Through passion, strength. Through strength, power._

 

He muffled his steps, lest he be betrayed by wayward twigs or dried leaves. He kept himself in the shadows even as drew closer to the source of light.

 

He spied a ladder not too far, resting against an apple tree. Next to it was a long pole, and a half-filled basket. On the top rung, he spotted a boot resting against it, with the body it belonged covered by the branches above.

 

Finger curled around his hilt of his scythe, Kylo waited. As much as he hated his uncle, he would not strike him in the back. No, between the two of them, he was not the coward. They would battle in fairness, and his uncle would fall.

 

He watched the figure on the ladder descend. Muscles tensed as he tightened his grip on his weapon, teeth clenched behind his helmet.

 

A second boot joined the first, and soon two slender legs appeared. A narrow waist, wrapped by a pale skirt, with an apron full of apples tied to the front. Two tanned arms followed after, shoulders covered by scarfs. The face however did not come next, for it was hidden under the shadow of a large hat.

 

One thing was sure to Kylo: unless Luke Skywalker had lost a great deal of weight in the last five years, this was not he.

 

Kylo lowered his scythe, but did not put it away. Though this figure was not his traitorous old master, it was beyond doubt that it was still the source of light that he had detected. Perhaps it was a new apprentice, he considered with great bitterness, or an heir by blood. Whoever it was, its allegiance was not with the Underworld.

 

The figure unhooked itself from the ladder, untying the apron and pouring the apples into the basket. He heard it mutter something to itself, before yanking of the hat and letting it drop behind her.

 

The first things that struck him was the manner that she had tied her hair – three buns, stacked one onto of another. The next were the freckles across her tanned cheeks, marks of the sun that her large hat had not quite protected against. Her lips were cracked by the heat, and there was a scrape wound against her forehead. Her tattered robes, her mismatched boots, her clumsiness wrapped arms. This harvester should be no different from the peasants that he had seen loafing around his uncle’s domain, yet he could not bring himself to look away.

 

There was something her expression of satisfaction that was pleasing to him. It was not incurred by a drunken stupor, nor the fleeting amusement of gossip, but from fulfilment. It was still, like a small but steady light. It was not burdened or emotionless, like his uncle’s. It was not born from comfort or luxury. It was raw, fresh, brimming with hope and yearning. It was…beautiful.

 

 _She_ was beautiful.

 

And then she looked his way.

 

Any pleasantness on her face melted away immediately, replaced with fear. She grabbed the pole leaning against the tree, adopting a stance of attack without a hint of hesitation. She was no stranger to intruders, it seemed, nor a stranger to defending herself.

 

Despite himself, Kylo felt admiration for her grow.

 

“Who are you?” she demanded, dripping with ferocity and suspicion.

 

He did not answer, for he truly did not know what to say. All the words seemed to have fled him at that moment. Part of him wanted to grab her by the throat and wring out her any information of his uncle. Another part had the curious urge to start waxing poetry, to compare the sun against her hair like jewels in the light – and he despised the sun.

 

The girl – this epitome of strong, bold light - seemed displeased with his lack of response, for she barked out the same demand once more, injecting greater ferocity. Beneath her bravado, he sensed an underlying fear.

 

 _A creature in a mask._ Ah.

 

Without really thinking, his gloved hands went to his helmet, undoing the clasp. He lifted it off.

 

Without the visor hindering his vision, her loveliness only seemed to increase. He could see how her tanned skin matched so well with the earthen hues of her hair. Her cheeks were flushed with life and her eyes sparkled with vigour. She was utterly and undoubtedly the most splendid creature he had ever laid his eyes on.

 

Some of the hardness in her face had softened, possibly after realising too that he was flesh and blood – or at least, that he seemed so. Still, she did not lower her guard. “Who are you?”

 

He could tell her – there was no reason to be ashamed of it. But for some reason, he said instead, “Ben.”

 

She arched a brow at him.

 

Kylo cleared his throat. It was embarrassing, honestly, how nervous he felt under her judging gaze, when he had slaughtered thousands without flinching before.

 

“Well,” she said at last. Her emphasis on his name made it clear that she didn’t quite believe him. “What do you want?”

For the first time in his life, Kylo knew very clearly what he wanted. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to voice it. Instead, he found himself stammering like a fumbling adolescence, “I am – um, well, I’ve lost my way. I – I – I was hoping you might be point back to the road.”

 

He could feel her wariness radiating off her. Eventually though, she told him, “If you want the fields, they’re a couple miles that way.” She used her staff to point down the expanse of the orchard.

 

She had seen his scythe, so thought him a mere harvester. Of course. That was a reasonable assumption, considering the professions that most adopted in these parts.

 

Kylo nodded, pretending to be relieved. “Ah, thank you. I shall be on my way then.”

 

The girl nodded. She crouched next to her basket and hoisted it to her hip. It was clear that too she had other places to be, for she said nothing more to him, just grabbing her ladder and marching down the line of trees.

 

That should have been all of the encounter, except that he couldn’t resist calling to her, “Wait.”

 

Her steps slowed, and she spun his way, expression now mostly curious.

 

Kylo swallowed. “Who are you?”

 

She considered the inquiry, before answering, “Rey.”

 

Rey. Of course. Like a ray of sun. How appropriate for one so full of light.

 

“Thank you, Rey,” was what he told her. And he meant it truly.

 

Her expression was quite unreadable, and she spun around headed away.

 

It was with great reluctance that Kylo resumed his search for his uncle. Yet, as he trampled through each of subsequent orchard of apples, his thoughts lingered on her.

 

~~~0~~~

 

Snoke was not the type of master who whipped his apprentices.

 

No, he electrocuted them.

 

Electricity was, after all, a gift that only the gods might harness, and the Lord of the Underground had no issues with displaying his prowess – especially when it came to punishing those failed him.

 

The blisters on Kylo’s back had just begun to resolve when his master sent his back to the world above again. He did not refuse, so he strapped his armoured coat over his wounds and his cape over his shoulders. Scythe in hand and helmet covering his head, he was all set to go. But he did not go immediately to the station, stopping first to the small shrine that he kept in his chambers.

 

There lay the crumbled helmet of his grandfather, the greatest Lord of the Underworld that had ever lived. To the mortals, the gods were immortal. Everlasting. Forever. They didn’t understand that gods could die, though in ways that were different from mortals. The gods didn’t descend into the underworld the mortals did, but merely melted into the Force, to become nothing but sparks in its wide webs of energy.

 

But Kylo Ren believed that the soul of Darth Vader lingered somewhat in his remains, radiating the dark power that he had been so potent of in his life. Surely, one who wielded the force so well could not be consumed by it.

 

“Guide me, grandfather,” he entreated to the relics, “let me see the darkness, even as I traverse into the light.”

 

He took the 3.30 headed for the Upper world, seated in the _Upsilon_ class cabin where he could brood in relative privacy. The regiment that had been assigned under him boarded the very same train, albeit the far more cramped carriages further down. There weren’t many trains scheduled for the surface world.  

 

The road was a long one, and the scenery in the Underworld wasn’t much to look at. It was just miles and miles of darkness after all. So Kylo Ren took the time to ponder how he would find Luke Skywalker.

 

~~~0~~~

 

He didn’t find Luke Skywalker.

 

Again, on this side of the planet, he found no trace of the Jedi. Again, all he found were the useless shrines.

 

This time, however, Kylo Ren did not restrain himself. The centres of festivity turned into the fountains of blood. The temples meant to celebrate life now reeked death. Those culled were collected; bodies gathered and transported to the nearest station, where they would be loaded onto the next train to the Underworld.

 

The Captain in charge of the raid was a sensible woman who obeyed his orders without question. She was efficient in directing the troops and rounding up the survivors – all of whom were swiftly executed. So he ordered her to oversee the delivering the haul back his master. It was in a way an offering. The Supreme Lord would be pleased to have more souls to work in the foundries, and perhaps that would appease his impatience.

 

“What of Skywalker, sir?” Captain Phasma asked. She didn’t ask out of idle curiosity, nor out of desire to undermine his authority as _some_ enjoyed. She merely wanted to know how what role she was to play in fulfilling the objective.

 

“I will continue the search,” Kylo answered, drawing his hood over his head.“Perhaps I can cover more ground on my own.”

 

If the Captain doubted his faith in his abilities, she didn’t voice it. A wise choice.

 

So left to his own devices on the surface world, Kylo Ren mediated in the fields of the massacre. He allowed the atmosphere of ash and blood to press on him, to sharpen his thoughts and clarify his emotions. Like a dart in the darkness, his mind pierced through the fabric of the Force, homing on to his target.

 

_Light._

 

Except, it wasn’t Luke Skywalker. He knew that now, because he could now see the elements that echoed her – the grim resilience, the hopeful yearning, the aching loneliness.

 

 _So, so, lonely._ He knew that feeling. Despite that, she was still filled with determined hope. Not like him – ridden with bitterness and scorn. Part of him swelled with envy that she could be so… so… _noble_ , but by no means did that obscure the admiration that he had towards her.

 

Kylo opened his eyes and he knew what he had to do.

 

~~~0~~~

 

He found her at evening under an oak, tending to a fire. He spent a good minute or so standing at a distance, trying to decide how best to approach her. By the time he had made his mind, however, she was no longer at that initial position.

 

And then his back met the ground and a boot slammed on his chest. The rod jabbing in his shoulder also hurt. _“Oww!”_

She cocked her head to the side, squinting in against the shadows before recognition crept on her. “Oh, it’s just you.”

 

“Is this your nature?” his irritated hiss came through the filter of his mask. “Assaulting any poor passerby who happens upon you?”

 

Rey’s suspicious expression remained – or was that distaste? Still, she removed her boot from him and permitted him to return to his feet, though not offering any aid and certainly no apology. Just a demand – “Why are you here?”

 

“Is it a crime to walk these fields at night?” was the only answer Kylo would give. He pressed a gloved hand against his chest, rubbing against the bruise formed there. “Or do you own this land?”

 

A look from her was enough to confirm his guess.

 

Sullenly, the girl called Rey slid back to seat near her campfire, never turning her back to him the entire time. Now that he was nearer, he could see that she was cooking something in a small pot. It’s aroma was very earthy and strong.

 

Though uninvited, Kylo took a spot on a flat stone across from her.

 

She frowned. “I’m not-” she bit her lip “-I’m not going to offer you any, you know.”

 

“I’m not hungry,” he assured. He hadn’t eaten the bounty from the surface since his service to Supreme Lord, and he wasn’t about start now.

 

Her shoulders seemed to relax a little upon hearing this. It was then Kylo noticed how thin she seemed to be - how hungry and eager she was for her meal. For one living in the prosperous world of above, this was unexpected. Did the Lord of the Light, the great Jedi himself, not bring bountiful harvest to those under his domain?

 

She must have caught him staring, for her manner immediately returned its initial hostility. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

 

“No, not really,” was what he answered.

 

“Hmm.” She lifted the lid of the pot, stirring its mushy contents around the thick soup. It was clear that these were ingredients haphazardly tossed together, no finesse or even taste considered. Into a small earthenware bowl, Rey poured herself a small serving and matched it with a hard, crusted loaf that she had kept in her satchel. Tearing off a bit of the bread, she dipped it into the soup and stuffed it straight in her mouth.

 

Kylo couldn’t help think of the Underworld, of the delicate cuisine served to him on silver plates. He was never one to obsess with food, as long as it was well-cooked and palatable. Yet, he couldn’t imagine eating everyday the way she did – and certainly not with unwashed hands.

 

“Oh, for goodness’ sake!” the girl suddenly burst out, startling him out of his thoughts. Scowling deeply and bubbling with anger, Rey spat out, “I can’t read your expression with that ridiculous thing on.”

 

The helmet. _Oh_.

 

More hastily that he expected, he undid the latches and practically ripped his headgear off. The second that he did, he regretted it. He knew, since childhood, that his face was an open book. Undoubtedly,  his every thought was screaming out at her and she would see the ugliness within him.

 

If she did see it, Rey made no comment. In fact, her manner seemed a little warmer when she asked, “How has the harvest treated you?”

 

Still thinking him a worker in the field, of course. Only the hilt of his scythe was in her sight, not its blood-stained blade. She didn’t know the death that weighed upon him – the death was still demanded of him.

 

He lied, “It has been well.”

 

“You work on your own land, then? How good that is for you.” There’s no malice in her tone, not even a grudge. Though her manner was not friendly, he sensed her wish was sincere. “The Lord of Light has blessed the land greatly this year.”

 

His expression darkened immediately. But quickly, he attempted to shift it to a more neutral face, hoping that the falling night would hide his slip. “You,” there’s still in an edge in his tone, “you know the Lord of Light?”

 

Part of him pleaded, _say no, say no._

 

“Only by legend,” Rey answered between her mouthfuls. “Just see his pictures in temple and hear the stories by the roadside. That’s all. They’re very exciting and all that – what with him wresting back the Earth from the Dark Lord.”

 

“Hmm.” Still, he relieved that that’s the extent of her knowledge of Luke Skywalker.

 

“But it’s all legend. Honestly, I’m not sure how much of it I believe. It’s just that-” she shrugged “-thanking the Great Jedi is a thing that people do, I suppose.”

 

Yes. The god of harvest – they worshipped. The god of death – they shunned. Such ridiculous favouritism, as if one was of greater import than another.

 

It was almost as if she was reading his thoughts. “I wonder if there’s anyone thankful to die.” Rey tucked a fist under her chin while she gazed into the fire, a stray brown strand flopping forward as she did.

 

Kylo had to resist the urge to draw that errant strand back, so thus chose to stare down at the fire and the boiling pot above it.

 

“Maybe those very old. Those very sick.” The girl stripped off a bit of bread and soaked into her muddy soup, before swallowing the morsel in one go. “Sometimes,” her voice had a faraway quality about it, “sometimes I look at the old ladies in the orchards around me. Their hands – they’re like this,” she put her bowl down just to demonstrate by curling her hands in a crooked fashion, “and they’re all bent and haggard. And I look at myself, and I-”

 

She didn’t finish, but Kylo understood. Some, at least.

 

“You seem a capable woman,” he told her, resisting to urge to add _‘beautiful’_ in front of _‘capable’._ “Surely, if there’s more that you wish accomplish, there’s little to could stop you.”

 

He noted the yearning stirring within her, the light that burned into his senses seeming to bloom. But then, it dimmed, forcibly suppressed.

 

“No,” Rey shook her head. “I can’t. They’ll be back. If I’m not here, they won’t be able to find me.” She dug her spoon into her soup – stew, or whatever – and shovelled it into her mouth.

 

He caught a flicker of images from her mind, a mish-mash of unreliable memories. He could feel the sense of loss, the pain and the confusion. The loneliness was now clearer than ever, swirling and surrounding the little light that she shone. It was like a weight to her ankles, tying her down to the work that she clearly had no love for.

 

A curious sensation swelled within him, one he had not felt for the longest time: _compassion._

 

It was awhile before he noticed that she had held her bowl out to him, the spoon pointing towards him. He was puzzled.

 

“You’ve been staring at the pot all this time,” Rey told him, looking straight at him in the eye. “You don’t need to pretend.”

 

He didn’t know if he should correct her, that his stares into the flame were in fact to avoid thinking about his uncle. But Kylo, for some reason, had no desire for her to know this.

 

Since he couldn’t think of a suitable excuse, all that he could do was accept the offering. Only scooping half-a-spoon worth of the mixture, he gingerly slipped in his mouth.

 

As expected, it was earthy. It was strong. Yet, there was something comforting and wholesome about it. growing like a warm feeling in his chest that had nothing to do with the bruise there.

 

It tasted of hard work. Of resilience. Of struggle. And yet, enduring hope. All the qualities that pointed at her.

 

Despite himself, Kylo took a second mouthful, a larger scoop this time. His dinner companion made no objection, for she just staring at the fire herself and rubbing the soil under the heel of her boot.

 

“It’s good,” he told her while handing the bowl back. She didn’t quite believe him, of course, just thinking him polite.

 

After taking his leave, Kylo Ren caught a train back under the ground. It was an empty one, since it ran from a precinct of happy, healthy young individuals.

 

Leaning against his plush seat, helmet lying by his side, the taste of the world of above stayed on his tongue, and a new yearning arose within his heart.

 

His dreams that night were of meadows, of flowers, and her tanned form standing in the midst of it, arms stretched towards the sky.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While writing, Greek myths started to creep into the story so... yeah...but Hadestown is still the main inspiration. 
> 
> I know nothing about agriculture or business or the systems that run them, so...have mercy.

After months of tracking false clues, they gained a name.

 

_“Lor San Tekka.”_

 

It was passed to him through Captain Phasma. She had told him that information came from one of their agents in the world above, but from the tendrils that he unravelled in her mind, he sensed that extracting that information from the agent itself had been the difficult part. Kylo Ren didn’t care of the origin of the information, as long as it was reliable.

 

“Who is this San Tekka fellow?” he inquired as he took the file from the Captain. The ground below them rattled as the carriage jerked onto new track. No doubt that the change of directions had already been passed down to the drivers.

 

Phasma, the model soldier she undeniably was, had all the answers prepared. “He’s a priest from the Church of the Force in the village of Tuanal. He was said to have met Luke Skywalker in person.”

 

The hand that he was holding the papers in clenched into a fist. _“What?”_

“It was many years ago, in Skywalker’s youth.”

 

It was only then that Kylo’s grip loosened, but the pages were already crumpled. Well, not that he cared – he could still read them. According to intel obtained, San Tekka had been involved with worshipping the Force even back in time when the world of above had been ruled by the Dark Empire. Unsurprisingly, his cult was aligned with the Great Jedi. Hypocrite, as many of those above world were. Claiming to love the Force, but only loving the half that they favoured.

 

“If he had no recent interactions with Skywalker, why should he have any worthy information of his current location?”

 

“San Tekka is well-known for his intensive study of the Jedi,” the Captain answered, unfazed by his probing. “There are rumours that he has from, his knowledge, pieced together a map of sorts that indicate Skywalker’s likely location.”

 

Kylo didn’t try very hard to fit the pages back in the file before handing it back to his subordinate in the chromium mask. “So, this hunt is based on a guess.”

 

Phasma didn’t flinch from his displeasure, nor from his clear disrespect for files. “There’s a 86.7% chance of obtaining valuable information from him, as calculated from our statisticians, sir, whether or not this map exists.”

 

He rolled his eyes behind his mask. Sometimes, it was annoying that the Captain didn’t have so much of speck of dust on her shining armour. Such a perfect soldier – it’s wonder that she had yet to gain the personal attention from the Supreme Lord himself. Well, if nothing else, at least she had no inclinations to the Force.

 

“Leave me,” he dismissed her and she did, saluting before exiting the carriage. Now in privacy of his own cabin, Kylo Ren meditated deeply as he prepared to face yet another throng of his uncle’s worshippers.

 

~~~0~~~

 

Lor San Tekka had had the information.

 

 _Had_ had. Because he was now dead.

 

When they all gazed down at the corpse of the frail old man, Kylo could feel exasperation emitting off his chrome-covered captain, though it was quite impressively suppressed. But his own self-loathing he did not contain. Though his burst of spiteful slaughter had been very satisfying while it lasted, it hit him within seconds that this very outcome had been the intention of the priest.

 

Lor San Tekka had known, by appealing to him to think of his family roots, that he either would be drawn to compassion and thus spare him, or drawn to anger and thus slay him. Both ways, the location of Luke Skywalker would not be revealed. With his death secured now, San Tekka would not be alive enough for himself to extract it from his mind. By the time the detestable priest was reawakened in the afterlife, his body would have been dipped into the river of Lethe [1] and he would no longer remember any worthy information.

 

Dead end. Created by himself. The Supreme Lord would not be pleased.

 

Absorbed as he was with his thoughts, he was still in tune enough with the Force to sense a disturbance. A threat.

 

Kylo Ren spun around in time to halt the projectile that had been flying towards his head. It froze in the air.

 

The culprit responsible had at that moment tried to run, only to find himself quite unable to move. The pistol in his grip was frozen as it had been, in its raised position. His feet were rooted to the ground. His face hardened with bravado, but shadowed by fear, was stock still.  If he wanted the attention of the harbinger, he certainly had it now.

 

His troops stepped forward to apprehend him, wresting the wooden weapon from his grasp and folding his arms behind him. They dragged the ruddy-faced, brazen young man before him, forcing him to his knees – as he should be.

 

Still, the unrepentant youth just stared straight at his permeable visor, even drawling, “So…I talk first or you talk first?”

 

Kylo ignored the words for now. If nothing else, he did learn his lesson from San Tekka. Rather, he dived into the mind of the delinquent. A mere brush was all it took to tell him what had occurred. “He gave the map to you.”

 

“What? It’s very hard to understand you with all the apparat-” the rogue was cut off when his breathing tract was, in fact, cut off by Kylo’s iron grip.

 

“You’re remarkably bold for who’s just insulted a god,” he informed the writhing man.

 

“You’re gonna kill me anyway,” the youth, with a spray of black curls dangling defiantly over his eyes, spat through smatterings of breath. “Well, I’m not afraid, so do your-”

 

Kylo slammed him down into the dirt, drawing grim delight in the miscreant’s pained expression. The soldiers promptly dart forward to search him without care for his comfort, but there was no map to be found. Uncertain of what to do, his troops looked to him.

 

Kylo scowled. Oh, how he wished to dash the smug felon’s face into the rocks, but he couldn’t. Not yet.

 

“Take him to the train,” he finally ordered.

 

At this, the youth seemed stunned, disturbed even. This certainly had not been considered. Good.

 

“Since you’re so eager for death, rejoice,” Kylo said to him with no small amount of malice. “You’ve been granted a one-way ticket to Hell.”

 

~~~0~~~

 

Jakku was once a desert, they said, until the Lord of Light had placed his hands on the ground.

 

The sand turned into soil, rich and thick. The blazing sun was tempered into a courteous glow. The dry winds turned into the dainty breezes. Rivers ran were bones were once buried, and then life just burst forth.

 

It was no wonder, then, that so many in the city were eager to stay in his good graces. The temple to the Lord of Life was a lavish one, located in the city centre of Niima and possible occupying at half the land that the city itself. Fine statues of hooded Jedi stood at its entrance, gazing down serenely at the clucking masses that shuffled in and out of the temple square. Flowers, fruit, meat – offering of all kinds were brought up to the temple altar. The richer ones would even offer finer metals, like precious stones, or even gold if they could afford it, all in hopes of bribing the Great Jedi to keep their bounty overflowing.

 

Rey was not exactly stingy with her offerings. Yes, she paid her tribute monthly because she did want her land to stay fertile and she wished no starvation on those around her. But it hasn’t really escaped anyone’s notice that even with the consistent offerings, harvest has been on gradually declining over the years. Whereas once her fields had been enough to fill her belly, now she had taken to working on the grounds of Unkar Plutt just to have two meals a day.

 

The portly gang lord was as close to a mayor that Jakku would ever get, simply because he had ousted any competition either by gambling or by bullets. By default, that meant that he owned the most land and the fruit borne on it. It kept himself unhealthily overweight, unbearably arrogant and irrevocably selfish. But no one dared to say that to him in the face, because they needed him, or at least his business to survive.

 

Today, she had made the long travel down to the city on her horse Swoop, pulling her wagon after her. After first offering a bushel of wheat at the temple of Luke Skywalker, she went to Plutt’s store that was right around the corner.

 

It wasn’t really so much a store though as a stand, and Plutt’s himself stood behind its counter, fully intent on sneering at those he deemed beneath him. At his level of wealth, it seemed quite ridiculous that he would man the place himself instead of hiring someone to do it. But then again, an scheming character like him would have a hard time trusting his best resources in any hands besides his own.

 

“The scavenging rat,” was how he greeted her as it came to her turn at the counter. It was the title that he had called her back when she was child, when she had no land of her own to work on and her meals had come from the unwanted scraps of others’ labours. He had given her work even back then, though he would also kick her and spit at her when he was angry. He couldn’t do that to her anymore, not when she carried a staff around and wielded it very well, but his scorn for her had not lessened.

 

But Rey didn’t care about what slovenly, crude Plutt thought of her, as long as he would do business with her. Presenting her half bushel of wheat, she lay it down in the basin of his weighing scale. “A bottle of olive oil, a tin of kerosene-” she squinted down at the tear down her sleeve, “-some thread.”

 

The churlish gangster grunted sourly as he looked at the numbers. “That would only be enough for either the oil or the gasoline with the thread, not both.”

 

The girl frowned. “That would have been more than enough the last time, even if I threw in a box of salt!”

 

“The olive oil or the kerosene,” Plutt snarled with a note of finality. “Argue more, and I’ll only give you the thread.”

 

Rey peered at the fully-stocked shelves that stood behind him, the pretty glass bottles and the polished tins all lined so neatly. She had never been well-stocked in her life, just having enough to get her by and only running out when she had the resources to get new ones. She was running low on kerosene but… the oil was far more important.

 

She stated her choice to Plutt and he took the bottle that she provided to fill it.

 

With her goods all in her bag, Rey made her way to the plainer side of Niima town, which was proportionately further away from the temple. Navigating through the narrow streets and twisting alleys, she found herself at small building that house a simple shrine. Tying her horse at a nearby pillar, she entered.

 

There weren’t many there, just a few attendant that maintained the place. The altar of the shrine didn’t share the opulence and grandeur of the Great Jedi’s, being a plain tablet cut of stone. Yet it was before simple tablet that Rey uncapped her bottle of her olive oil and poured into the basin before it. On her knee, she lifted her hands towards tablet and lay her silent request.

 

From the stories that she had heard from the musicians at the Jedi’s temple, the goddess Shmi had been a mortal girl once, a slave with nothing of her own and bound to the whims of her master. She had been alone, powerless over her own fate, yet remained so pure and good that the Force had blessed her with a child even while she was a virgin. She had become the patron goddess of barren women and their desperate husbands - though those who came to her often came in grief and shame, hence the discrete location of her shrine.

 

But it was to the lesser known role of the goddess that Rey appealed to this day. That was to the Great Mother’s position as the protector and preserver of families.

 

Rey didn’t remember much about her family, only that she had one. She also knew that they weren’t in Jakku, but had left her here. Why, she couldn’t remember. But she did remember them saying they would be back. Someday.

 

So, she prayed for them, for her parents, for any possible siblings, that they might be guarded against any evils or harm. She hoped that her offering, as simple as it was, would please the goddess and that she would take pity, and bring them home.

 

But she could not control the goddess’ response anymore than she could control the sun in the sky. Maybe her parents had to do something, maybe fight a war or complete a quest. They had left her behind for a reason, and they could only return once that reason was dealt with. It was all in the goddess’ timing.

 

Once she had completed her prayers, Rey felt a renewed sense of hope. Her chest felt a lot lighter as she imagined how it would be when they came back. They would be so proud of her, for how independent she was, how much she had achieved with the little that she had, how she faithful she had been to wait for them…

 

But till then, she would work, and wait.

 

Rising to her knees, she nodded slightly to one of the attendants who had gone to retrieve her offering. Rey then stepped out into the street, all ready to make her way out of the city when she heard the playing music. Music usually came with stories, and stories had given her much comfort in her youth. So it was to the surprise of none that Rey found her feet moving to the direction of the players.

 

There was already a small crowded gathered around, always up for some free entertainment no matter the time of the day. The two at the centre of attention were young women, standing outside the bar. One had a fiddle and the other a guitar, and both sang in perfect harmony.

 

“ _No one here is a millionaire – but we’re livin’ it, livin’ up,_

_what we have, we have to share – livin’ it up on top.” [2]_

By their garb, they were not rich – few musicians were. But they seemed so happy and cheerful, and the rhythm of the song was very tappable, if the swaying crowd was nothing to go by. Rey didn’t mind joining either, unable to keep from smiling at the performers’ enthusiasm.

 

It only struck her after a minute of listening though that two were not collecting any money. In fact, when the song through into a fiddle solo, the guitar player took a pause to start giving flowers to the crowd. They weren’t anything special, just those small daisies that one might find growing along the sidewalk. Still, it struck Rey as rather bizarre, for very little in Jakku was ever given without payment.

 

 _“We give you this song for free,_ ” the two sang as the crowd sang along, _“coz that how life ought to be-”_

 

Even after their song ended, the young women stayed behind to give out the remainder of their flowers to those around.

 

“May the Force be with you,” were kindly words that Rey received from the fiddle player. Between the two musicians, she was the taller, prettier one and it was little wonder those around had preferred to take the flowers from her hand.

 

But Rey herself didn’t care much for silly things like that, but instead wanted to know, “I don’t understand.”

 

The musician gazed at her in a confused, by kindly manner. “What don’t you understand?”

 

“Why would you play music and not take payment?” Rey asked as she adjusted her bag against her back. “Why would give anything without recompense?”

 

“It’s what the Great Jedi would have want,” the fiddler explained, even as she cheerfully handed out the rest of her gifts to those passing by. “The Jedi of old kept no personal belongings, because there was no need – the Force always provides. If no one takes too much, there will always be enough.” She pressed a slender stalk in Rey’s hand. “Go, and may Luke Skywalker always fill your cup.”

 

“Paige?” the guitarist called out and the fiddler’s head turned.

 

Rey took that moment to leave, because she had dallied here too long already. She had to hit the road soon if she wanted to reach home before the sun went down. All the way back, though, she twirled the flower in her hand, admiring how something so commonplace could have so much beauty.

 

After the girl had arrived back the little hut that was her home, she took an empty jar from a cupboard and set the flower in it, with just a bit of water. Then, she set it up on the small table that stood in the centre of the hut. It was an odd fixture in her plain home, since everything she owned generally served some kind of purpose. But it was a good kind of odd.

 

Rey scraped another mark against the wall, along the sea of all the others, even as she hummed the song in her head.

 

~~~0~~~

 

He’s a member of the _Resistance_. The very same that has been defying the collection of souls. Even worse, his name was Poe Dameron.

 

Kylo remembered Kes Dameron and Shara Bey. Both had been loyal followers to the Lady Liberty herself; twin sibling to the Lord of Light. Why so surprised their only offspring adopt the same beliefs as their misled selves, still serving the waning goddess and her pointless cause?

 

But perhaps he should pity the gunsman instead. Pity him for being so cocky. So stubborn. So brazenly unenlightened.

 

It didn’t take very much before Poe Dameron, the finest marksman on the side of the Resistance, broke down in sobs and spilled the truth about the Map. Except that the news he provided wasn’t much good.

 

“He tied it to a bird. One with feathers orange and white,” was the information he snapped to Phasma after he emerged from the interrogation chamber. “The search for it should begin immediately.”

 

“Of course,” the Captain said, posture rigid and respectful. “Where should this search begin?”

 

“Start with the village of Tuanal, then work our way from there-”

 

“And then we will never find it,” a polished, heavily accented voice rang from behind them. “Leave it to you to be epitome of incompetence, Ren.”

 

Only one would dare to address him in such a manner, and Kylo’s suspicions were too quickly confirmed when there stood Hux, in all his freckled and pasty-faced glory.

 

The Supreme Lord had granted Armitage Hux the title of Director, and had more or less placed the day-to-day runnings of the Underworld under his belt.   _Why_? Kylo would never know. A more suitable title would have been ‘Pompous Windbag’.

 

“A bird, if you haven’t realised,” Hux said while touching the centre of his so very fine suit, still casting airs left and right, “can fly.”

 

Kylo’s tone was clipped and sardonic. “That had utterly escaped my notice.”

 

“By the time you’ve begun your search, the creature would have long fled the region,” Hux continued, ignoring the sheer hate that was being channelled his way. “You would have lost the bird and thus our only lead to Luke Skywalker.”

 

“I suppose you have a solution then?” Kylo challenged, folding his arms in the most of hostile manner possible.

 

Captain Phasma glanced at him, then at Hux.

 

The redhead however appeared to indeed have one. “We have trains running to all corners of the Earth. Simply spread word that we would reward anyone who can provide information about this bird – or better yet, the bird itself.” He paused. “Alive, with its quarry.”

 

“The Supreme Lord will not approve of this plan,” Kylo argued, the vocal modulator emphasising the sneer in his manner. “He would not risk the gods of above being aware of our progress.”

 

“On the contrary, he has already granted me his approval.” And there, from behind his back, the superintedent produced a file, opening it up to reveals the proposal documents and the stamp of the Supreme Lord, crusted in fresh wax.

 

The chagrin that enveloped the Master of the Knight of Ren that moment was so thick that one could slice right through it.

 

“If the gods of above do not already know, then they are complacent, and thus deserving of their fate. And if they know, well,” Hux shrugged, shutting the file and slipping it under his arm, “there’s nothing they can do, is there?”

 

It was slight. A probe. A jab. Desired to incur wrath, to elicit action – a foolish action. One that would cast him under the disapproving gaze of his master. Oh, how he longed to lop Hux’s smug face of his smartly-dressed body, let his body be cast into the great beyond and forgotten. If only the Supreme Lord did not favour him so.

 

The Captain was the one to speak first. “I shall arrange for messengers to be sent out, to let the word spread.”

 

“Very good, Captain Phasma,” Hux permitted with too much graciousness, letting her take her leave to make preparations.

 

“I see if I can lend my aid,” Kylo began.

 

The redhead cast as cursory glance towards him. “Oh, I doubt that anything you might provide would be of any help.”

 

Returning a smouldering look, the harbinger growled through gritted teeth, “What did you say?”

 

Surely, Lord Ren, you understand that as the skills of harbinger are not the skills of soldier. As it happens, I happen to have many soldiers.”  His snotty-nosed, bootlicking rival maintained a cool, matter-of-fact manner, clearly unaware with how close he was to being sliced into pieces. “Impeccably trained and impossibly loyal. They would have the work done faster than it would take for you to do up your boots.”

 

He walked over to Kylo’s desk, to decanter that sat there. Not bothering to ask permission, he poured himself and a glass. Throughout, the knight watched him with hate-fill eyes.

 

Finally, Kylo spoke, “You wish to find Luke Skywalker yourself.”

 

Hux didn’t answer at once, but a wry grin stretched across his absolutely punchable face before he took a sip of his drink. Of course he did. Because Armitage Hux was not grateful not grateful enough to have been placed in a position of such privilege after his death. He was not satisfied with his power merely being over Hell itself – he wanted power over the world above as well.

 

Humming his approval at his stolen beverage, the director replaced the cap on his decanter. “Our world is changing, Ren. Our world below, their world above – soon that difference would be quite arbitrary.”

 

Kylo raised a brow, not that Hux could perceive it through his heavy mask. All this was old knowledge. The factories, the collected souls, the railroads – all of them were part of the Supreme Lord’s grand vision for expansion. It was a continuation of his grandfather’s great work, which Kylo Ren fully supported. He did not, however, support Hux’s involvement in it.

 

 “In such a world, the desired attributes of the management would be different from now,” the redhead went on, prowling across the office the way a predator would in the bushes. “It needs to be run with efficiency. Strategy. Patience. It’ll be an era of intellect, not-” he took a sip from his drink once more “-brute force.”

_Kill him,_ Kylo’s feelings hissed at him. _Kill right where he stands._

 

“Of course, there’s still a need to keep our-” the director peered out the window that overlooked the city “- _resources_ in line. So perhaps in our new order, there might still be a need for-” turning quite pointedly towards to his masked collegue “-rabid dogs.”

 

Kylo Ren didn’t need to think before his hand shot out.

 

Hux’s smug expression slipped from his face just as his glass too slipped to from his grasp, shattering. He writhed, like an eel on a hook, body try to jerk away from the invisible hold. That only drove Kylo to tighten his grip, watching in grim satisfaction as his foe’s face turned a bright shade of blue.

 

_STOP._

 

Kylo’s hold was abruptly lifted against his will. And a chill descended upon him, but it was not in the flesh as much as the mind. His master was very wise - in a world of his dominion, what could escape his eye?

 

While Hux gasped away in the back drop, sucking in sweet breaths of relief, the harbinger himself heard an order that filled him with dread. .

 

 _Come. Now._ There was no benevolence in the tone. No - it was rage. It was disgust.

 

Though he loathed to go, Kylo Ren left his office and its invader behind, making his way to the throne room. Obeying without question.

 

Like a dog.

 

A rabid dog, that needed to be disciplined. That needed to be reminded of its place – and that was at the heel of its master.

 

Yet, later when his new wounds were nursed in the private shame of his chambers, Kylo Ren found himself avoiding the thoughts of the position he occupied in this great city. Instead, he thought of the world above, away from his master’s eyes and his master’s yoke.

 

He suddenly longed very much for the scent of fresh air.

 

~~~0~~~

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] - one of the 5 rivers from Greek myths of the Underworld. Since the river Styx is mentioned in the musical, I guess these rivers exist in this world too.  
> [2] - from 'Livin' it up on Top' from Hadestown
> 
> I couldn't resist throwing some other characters. But basically, most of the characters from Original Trilogy & Prequel Trilogy of Starwars are probably gods of some kind in this story. 
> 
> Happy New Year all! If you liked this chapter, please leave a comment or a kudos, or both. 
> 
> Also, does 'Snoketown' sound weird? I've been kind of avoiding calling the Underworld anything but the Underworld, but in the musical Hadestown is like mentioned...at least every ten minutes or something.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One problem with _Hadestown _as the inspiration of this story is that the world-building is a bit weird, because _Hadestown _is an evolving musical - its current run in London is quite a bit different from its initial run in New York, which is still different from its original self. So in one production it was like in like the wild-west-meets-New-Orleans sort of thing, and in another it's in the Great Depression era thing. It also doesn't help that I've never watched the musical and I probably never will (since I live in the wrong country).____
> 
> __
> 
> __Basically, I can't always make up my mind how to build this world (I wrote this on a whim, telling myself it'd be a one shot. Clearly, I lied to myself). All that I've worked out thus far is that there are still no cars in this world, but there has to be definitely guns if there are phones. So...all the bows and arrows have become guns and bullets._ _
> 
> ___Thanks for reading this friendly PSA._  
>   
>  Edit (19 Feb 2019): Had to the delete and re-upload this chapter due to some formatting issues. Sorry, @DarkLadyReylo, that your comment was deleted. Thank you all the same for taking time to drop one and I appreciate it._ _

She’s surprised that she _wasn’t_ surprised to see him again. It was almost as if she knew that he was coming.

 

He wasn’t in that strange armour that he usually wore, but nonetheless, his garb was still black as the night, allowing him to blend seamlessly into the shadows.

 

“You know, I’m not going to feed you every time you come,” was how Rey greeted him as he approached the fire. She didn’t even glance up from the pot that she stirred. Her staff lay by her feet, well-within her reach, but she had a feeling that she didn’t really need it. As gruff as this ’Ben’ fellow seemed to be, he had not proven himself a threat in their last two meetings. It was not enough to eliminate all danger, but she could afford to lower her guard slightly.

 

“I do not need to be fed,” came the quiet reply. Leaves crunched under his heavy boots as he made his way to the flat stone that had been his seat last time. It was only then that Rey did glance up. She saw his hesitation before he bent himself down. Thought not a sound he made, his wince was obvious.

 

The pieces quickly fell in place in her head, and her cooking was forgotten. “You’re hurt.”

 

“It’s nothing,” he told her. It was a lie. How she knew that, Rey wasn’t sure. His face was drawn straight and expressionless, yet that convinced her all the more that his words were false.

 

Slipping the lid over the pot – it needed some time before it could boil, anyway, - Rey marched over to her strange guest, hands over her hips. “Alright, where is it?”

 

“It’s nothing,” the man called Ben repeated emphatically, which did not convince her anymore than it did before.

 

Rey sighed, eyes running down his huge form from head to toe. It was a well-built form, mind you, and had she not been occupied, she would have admired it. Unfortunately, most of her attention was centred on the abnormal way that he hunched himself to his right.

 

Without asking for permission, she stabbed jabbed his side.

 

“Oww!” He jerked away at once, expression somewhere in between shocked and furious. “Is it your goal to cause me injury every time we meet?”

 

The girl let out an exasperated puff. “Please, you’re already injured. You might as well show it to me.”

 

Ben gazed at her with nothing but pure suspicion. She could almost feel the doubt radiating of him – what could an isolated farm girl know of healing?

 

Rey rolled her eyes at him. “I’m not healer, sure, but an ‘isolated farm girl’ wouldn’t live as long as I have if she didn’t know how to care for herself, would she?”

 

His expression of incredulity was one that she would love to frame, if such were possible. But he did not speak a word of this, only saying, “You will not like what you see.”

 

“I have lashes of my own,” she retorted. “Now, c’mon. I can’t help if I don’t see them.”

 

She can read the conflict in his expression, even as he removed his outer coat, and gingerly rolled up the hem of his tunic. Rey leaned herself back slightly, fighting the urge to blush when it occurred to her that her proposition had been somewhat…forward.

 

Any embarrassment melted however when she saw the marks.

 

Rey was no stranger to abuse. Too many of the great land owners were more than happy to whip labourers who they figured were a little too slow, or a little too snippy, or just at a convenient location for whipping. But the marks that stretched from Ben’s chest down to his left flank were nothing like she had seen before. They were like tendrils under the skin, swollen and screaming red. It was as if flames had crawled into his flesh and burned a path into him.

 

Without realising it, one of her hands had reached for his wound. Contact earned a hiss and stiffening.

 

“Sorry, sorry.” She hastily withdrew her hands, only noticing then that she was trembling. The ugly sight disturbed her greatly for some reason, and she couldn’t quite place why.

 

“Perhaps you should heed my warnings in the future,” was her guest’s gruff comment as he cautiously lowered his tunic.

 

Rey bit the inside of her lip, unsure whether she should answer with a retort, or pry into the events that had led to such punishment (though to use the word ‘punishment’ here – it’s seemed too light a word). In the end, she decided to say, “Wait here.”

 

Without waiting for answer, the girl departed the fire grounds, heading out to the wild grasslands that surrounded her harvest grounds. She traced back her steps of yesterday until she found the cluster of yarrow where had she seen them. Carefully extracting a few branches, she returned to the camp and held them out to Ben.

 

He glanced at her offerings, then at her.

 

“This will help,” she told him confidently.

 

Warily, he stretched his hand – long and wide, like himself – to the bundle.

 

Their fingers brushed.

 

The flowers would have fallen to the ground if his grip was not already tightened, for that very second that contact was made, Rey jerked back in shock. It might be sound peculiar, but it was almost, at that very split of a moment, that she felt that they were joined. Not the way one would joint a patch of cloth with another patch of cloth through tedious hours of sewing. But as in that very second, the two of them had become one.

 

_Don’t be afraid. I feel it too._

 

His lips didn’t move, but Rey simply felt him say it, and she knew it to be true.

 

Who knew how long had passed before they finally stopped staring at each other. Self-consciousness made them both drop their gazes to the ground and the severe awkwardness made Rey wish very hard that that hole would appear to swallow her up.

 

“It helps.”

 

The speed at which she raised her head should have snapped it off her shoulders – but it didn’t, thankfully. “What?”

 

Ben himself was still not quite looking at her, choosing to direct his eye to the flowers he clutched in his too-large – but still, very nice -hands. “These…plants. I can already feel the pain fading. Thank you.”

 

“Oh, no.” That snapped Rey out of her daze. “Um, you have to boil them first with four cups of water and grind it into paste.” For some reason, she found herself acting out the motions in the air, as if the demonstration could help. “Slap it on and cover them with bandages. Apply three times a day.

 

His usually pale face turned crimson. “….Oh.”

 

“Of course, prevention is the best cure,” she found herself babbling – why was her mouth still moving? Why were there still _words_ emerging from her _lips_? – “So my best recommendation would be to stop offending your master. Somehow.” Rey clapped her hands together and flashed a wane smile, mentally-kicking herself for giving the worse advice on Earth.

 

If he did think this the worse advice on Earth too, he was too polite to say. In fact, Ben did not stay very long afterwards, for he had to return to the place of his employ.

 

As he started on the road of his departure, he took a pause to gaze her way.

 

“If I come again,” Ben began, hesitant, “again on a night like this – without-” his tone was halting “-necessarily seeking a meal, or to sooth wounds – would my company be unwelcome?” For one so tall and strong, there was an unexpected tinge of fear in his words.

 

With the wind blowing down the path and the fire glowing bright, it struck her then that her strange visitor was not an unhandsome fellow. But yet, he was not handsome in the way that the statues at the Jedi temple were handsome – crafted to be easily pleasing to the eye. There was some thing heavy in his gaze, something worn and burdened that filled her heart with pity and … something else. Whatever it was, she felt herself drawn to him, as if some cord between them was being tightened.

 

Part of her was terrified, but another part was curious. So she found herself replying, “Perhaps if you bring your own food and healing salves next time, I wouldn’t be too offended.”

 

There was the barest hint of a smile, just at the edge of his lip, before he turned away.

 

That night, after the food was done and she was curled up in bed, she found herself wondering what it might be that weighed Ben down.

 

A train whistled in the distance just as she drifted into a dreamless sleep.

 

~~~0~~~

 

On the ride back, he held the curious plants under his coat. In part to because he wanted to hold them close to him, in part to keep them from view.

 

When he returned to his quarters, Kylo Ren pulled them out to examine them once more under the electrical light. Yarrow was a plain species - wild and sun-beaten, not the slightest delicate or dainty. Not unlike her.

 

He couldn’t bring himself to boil them up as Rey had suggested, even though his wounds yanked on his nerves each time he moved. But even for the relief a salve might bring, he couldn’t bear to be parted from the bit of life that he had smuggled into the world of the dead.

 

He instead fetched a glass of water, and sets the cluster down into it. From what he remembered of the world of above, it too needed light. No sun could reach the Underworld, so the lamp from his table would have to suffice.

 

As he lay himself down to rest, grimacing as injured flesh flexed, he found some strange relief in staring at the humble bit of life sitting on his desk, basking under the electric yellow.

 

His sleep was peaceful.

 

 

~~~0~~~

 

Rey didn’t consider herself an animal lover in any sense of the word.

 

In fact, her only gripe with Teedo was that he had been hunting on her land, and that definitely was not allowed. She didn’t care that he saw it first, or that he claimed to need the money it might fetch. There were boundaries, and they had to be respected.

 

“Give it over, Teedo,” she demanded, holding her free hand out while brandishing her staff still in the other hand.

 

The gnarled fellow grumbled, but eventually complied. He wasn’t much larger than she, and in battle, he would surely be felled.

 

With the net in her hand, she watched as the hunter led his beast of burden back into his own lands before she examined the catch. Carefully unravelled the ropes, Rey found herself staring at the most curious-looking bird she had every seen. Its entire body was white, so clean and polished, not the slightest stain and blemish one would expect from a wild bird. The only colour was along its wing. Their edges were streaked orange, again another peculiar feature.

 

“Well, you should aren’t from these parts, are you?” the girl murmured as she lifted the creature out from its cavity.

 

The bird spread it colourful wings out once, then twice, making a squawk as it tried to get a good stance on her palm.

 

Despite herself, Rey smiled. “Well, you should be a lot more careful. There are lots like him, you know – like Teedo. They like hunting for game.”

 

The bird made a dersively. Strange. It seemed to have understood her.

 

“Well, I don’t see anything wrong with you, so you’d best be on your way now.” She bobbed her hand up and down, prompting the bird to bat its wings and lift itself to the air. “Goodbye now.”

 

However, just as she thought that she had dismissed the creature, she heard a squall. It scooted down to rest on the top sack in her wagon.

 

Alarmed, Rey marched right up, waving fiercely at it. “Oh, no, you don’t. That grain is mine, thank you very much.”

 

The bird leapt back a few paces, darting nimbly out of way from her swats. It seemed to squawk rather indignantly.

 

Sensing that perhaps her assumptions were misplaced, Rey paused. “Alright, if you’re not planning to steal any grain, what are you doing here?”  

 

Only then she noticed that the bird had a tiny scroll tied to its leg. So it wasn’t a wild bird, after all. That still didn’t explain what it was doing here.

 

“You’re looking for someone, I suppose? Well, you’re not going to find them out here.” Rey jerked a shoulder back to acres of land. “It’s a lot of harvest land around here, and most folks would be going to town.”

 

It clicked only then what the creature’s intentions were. Considering it had just been caught even while in flight, and her warning about roaming hunters, it was clear what the favourable alternative to flying off on its own was.

 

 “Oh.”

 

The bird seemed to nod its head as an affirmative.

 

Rey grimaced. Growing up in Jakku taught her that nothing should be given for free, but how was could one bargain with a bird? Besides, it was weird enough that this bird seemed to understand her every word.

 

Letting out a long groan, she finally said, “Alright, just a ride to Niima then you’re on your own. I don’t care if someone decides that you’d make a great pie after that.”

 

The bird let out an annoyed sound, shaking its feather emphatically.

 

“Well, I can’t take another mouth to feed,” Rey shot back as she reached for the reins on her donkey, leading him forward. “Now, are you gonna be a good castaway or not?”

 

The rest of the ride to town was largely uneventful. For her, at least.

 

~~~0~~~

 

The living was not to descend to the underground, and the dead could not ascend to the earth above. So, understandably, the news of the two daring to do the latter was much cause for alarm.

 

“How?”

 

“He had assistance from the inside, the trooper FN-2187. They both stowed away on a five-fifteen to the eastern continent. They evaded our forces at the station there, possibly by changing trains,” Captain Phasma supplied grimly. That number instantly indicated that this trooper was in fact under her authority. Though she was certainly at risk of severe punishment, the perfect soldier had the perfect defence. “This was FN-2187’s first offence. He had never showed any defects before.”

 

Kylo Ren shifted his attention to the redheaded Director. Hux’s own expression was severe as he gazed down from the veranda overlooking the communication room. Workers sitting at the boards were frantically switching wires and channels, speaking frantically into their mouthpieces and listening intently to their headphones. All this fuss, because of an escaped Rebel and a traitor.

 

“How curious that this had occurred, since your soldiers are ‘impeccably trained and impossibly loyal’,” Ren remarked caustically, dragging out the words the way one would dig salt into a wound.

 

“And they are,” Director Hux snapped. “An exception remains an exception. Besides,-” his green flickered to his so-detested rival “-are the trains not your responsibility? Is not the ferrying of the dead your jurisdiction?”

 

Beneath his mask, Kylo Ren seethed, and his iron tone indicated as much. “My knights and I transport the dead into the underground. I hold no responsibility for what happens to them after that.”

 

“No, but the Supreme Lord would question how two souls had managed to leave the underworld.” The redhead cock his head to the side. “Do you think you’d be clear from blame?”

 

Ren frowned, knowing full well the implication. Either the Supreme Lord remained ignorant of this little mess-up or Hux would drag them both under the train with this.

 

Containing his urges to strangle the man – the marks were still fresh on his skin, the Harbinger inquired, “What is to be done?”

 

“The Rebel will seek out the creature that bears his map,” Hux murmured, turning away from the frantic hubbub that was the communications office, “yet he cannot stray too far from the tracks. Neither of them can. They are, after all, dead men.”

 

~~~0~~~

 

Rey somewhat regretted not selling the bird now.

 

If she had sold the bird to Unkar, she would have more cans of kerosene than she could ever use, and maybe a new pair of boots. But no, she took one look at the small orange and white creature, left behind in a strange and foreign land, and she said no. Because she had – of all things, at all times – compassion for the thing.

 

And then she ran into a man who the bird had seemed to know. Or something – it just kept pecking at his scalp furiously. The man tried to shoo him away, protesting his innocence for whatever crime they blamed him. After much debacle, it was revealed that the man was part of the resistance and the bird’s owner was dead.

 

She could have just left the bird with the man – he could take care of it. Except that he couldn’t. He seemed genuinely terrified of everything; the market hustle, the dirt, even the Sun – he just kept shielding his eyes and making pathetic noises. If she left this bird with this nitwit, both of them were going end up dead somewhere.

 

Of course, it so happened that just as she debated between altruism and practicality, Niima just exploded.

 

Well, not quite literally, but very close.

 

A sudden ambush struck the city with masked soldiers clamouring around, bullets filling the air as they came down upon the market. Before Rey knew what was going on, they were running for their lives and the nitwit kept trying to take her hand.

 

“Stop that,” she growled at him just as both of them ducked when a merchant suddenly plopped down straight down in front of them. She remembered him as one of the horrid ones who sneered at her whenever she walked past. She barely held down the bile from her throat, but still leapt over his body.

 

“I can’t keep up with you otherwise,” he protested back, panting behind her. The bird had taken to the air, but not too high less it become an easier target. It let out a sharp squawk then made Rey’s head turn. The stadium.

 

“This way,” she hollered to her companion. “Come on!”

 

Rey had never driven a buggy – she could never afford the horses. But in the wonderful thing about chaos was that people panicked, and when they panicked they forget to lock up important things. So it wasn’t that hard to jump onto the one that had been stationed near tied next to Plutt’s store and set it off. In the distance, she might have heard the old gangster’s protests. To that, the girl could only grin.

 

Her nitwitted companion was utterly flabbergasted by the whole experience, but he did manage to make himself slightly useful after he had filched a pistol off a soldier that they swept pass by – his fault for standing so near. He wasn’t too bad a marksman, so any of the soldiers that came after them were quick to be felled.

 

Before anyone knew it, they were soon speeding out of Niima town. Flying low besides them was the avian friend, swooping and cawing in triumph. Despite being pretty sure the bird was somehow the cause of this mess, Rey couldn’t help but grin at how delighted the creature seemed to be. The rush, the excitement – somehow, she couldn’t feel too upset.

 

Still, as she glanced back at the town disappearing into the distance, and then into the great unknown that lay before them, she whispered a prayer, hoping that the Great Mother Shmi would not let her family return before she did.

 

~~~0~~~

 

The entire town of Niima was, under Captain Phasma’s orders, razed to the ground. Not a single individual remained spared.

 

After he had heard of this, he was furious. It was not Phasma’s place to decide when a culling could or could not happen on the world above. But knowing the good soldier, Kylo Ren had little doubt that she must have done so under orders – and that would point it all back to Hux. Trying to pretend that he was still conducting his ‘very efficient methods’ of crushing the Resistance while undermining his authority. _Again._

 

Kylo caught the earliest train to the surface he could. He knew that the town was the nearest to where she was staying. There was a chance that – there was a risk –

 

He dared not think about it.

 

On the journey there, he wrecked his rage on the velvet cushions and the glass lamps that decorated the carriage. His subordinates wisely stayed away, probably whispering amongst themselves that the bird’s escape had upset him greatly. To be honest, the bird was the presently the least of his concerns.

 

When he arrived, he had demanded to examine every corpse before they were loaded up. Captain Phasma, sensing that part of his fury was directed at her, complied.

 

He examined them all – the old, the young, the grossly obese, the grotesquely skinny – but though they came many shapes and sizes, they were not her.

 

After all the bodies had been cleared and the train departed the station, he excused himself, hinting to a need to walk off his anger. However, he headed straight to the farmstead that she owned, desperate for any sign of life.

 

Her home was abandoned. The barn was empty. The fire that had warmed him twice before lay cold and bare. She was not here. But where?

 

He might be a god, but he was not all knowing.

 

Sombre was the only word to describe Kylo Ren on the train back to the underground. He’s not quite sure what to think. Could they had missed the body from the carnage, and now her soul had no way of entering the afterlife? Was it just that her body had been too badly damaged and he hadn’t recognised it?

 

He thought of reaching out for her with the Force, but with his emotions churning desperately within in him, there was no way he could without announcing his actions to his master.

 

He was conflicted. He was afraid.

 

Kylo Ren wasted no time heading to his quarters so that he could pace about in all the solitude that he needed. His chest felt tight and his knuckles turned white.

 

He glanced to the plant that sat on his table.

 

Even in water and under light, the flowers had wilted. Nothing could survive the touch of death.

 

He got a call not long after, from a timid subordinate that went by the name of Mitaka. He was one of those junior officers that had been accidentally promoted when his direct superior was thrown into the Styx. Thus, he was exceptionally underqualified for his job. This made the newly-minted corporal a rather nervous fellow. It was a wonder that he managed to deliver his news without stuttering all the way.

 

“Some troopers reported that the bird was seen escaping with the traitor, sir.”

 

He whipped out his scythe and immediately hacked it against the wall. And again. And again.

 

He could hear his subordinate cringe, but still persisted. “There was also a girl seen with them.”

 

Only then does he bend forward and press the telephone speaker closer to his ear. _“What. Girl.”_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, if you don't completely hate this, please give a kudos or a comment. I read all the comments - because there aren't many and I'm bored. But regardless, I hope you have a not-so-terrible day.


	4. NOTICE: REWRITING

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See below!

Hello there, SharKohen here.

If you have been following this story so far, I thank you for your kind attention. I'm really glad that anyone read it at all.  
That said, I will no longer be continuing to write this story. The reason is simply that as I continued writing it, I realised that it was increasingly like gaining the plot of Force Awakens and I really didn't want to that. Also, Hadestown the Musical itself has kind of changed quite a bit since its opening on Broadway, and I felt inspired to try to write this Reylo tale a little more like the new musical, but with the good parts of the old-style.

So...instead, I've decided to **rewrite** the story as a drabble series instead of a continuous novel. It's titled [_**'Lover when You Feel that Fire, Think of it As My Desire'** _](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18609190).

The focus would be more on after our Hades and Persephone stand-ins are already married, but since it's a non-chronological series, it would go back and forth to various points of times in their romance. Some parts of 'On the Road to Hell' may also be edited to fit in with the new story.

For those of you who like 'On the Road to Hell', I will be leaving it here for now until I manage to incorporate its various parts into the 'Lover-Desire' story instead, after which I will take this down.

Hope you guys might check out the new story, and not hate it.

Best Regards,  
SharKohen

**Author's Note:**

> I have some idea of where this is going...but I'm still working out the hows...
> 
> Comments, kudos - anything would be great. Whether you leave anything, thanks for reading!


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